


succor

by honey_wheeler



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, implied Jon/Robb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-29
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-06 05:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’ll find release inside her but not in any way to get a babe on her. There will be no bastards here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	succor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hesperia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesperia/gifts).



> From the kinkmeme prompt of **[this image](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m17ihuDRVy1r5scvho1_400.jpg)** (NSFW).
> 
>  
> 
> **Major spoilers through ASoS.**

This is all he’ll allow. She is his brother’s wife – his dead brother, Jon has to remind himself every time, dead, Robb is dead, and a piece of Jon’s heart is never coming back to him – she has come to the Wall for aid and shelter, and Jon is a man of the Night’s Watch, he has spoken his vows and taken his oath and his honor is almost all that’s left to him. But though man of the Night’s Watch he may be, he is also still a man, and there is only so far honor can stretch before it bends and deforms like metal pushed past the bounds of integrity. So he’ll lay with her, he’ll kiss her sweet lips as if to taste Robb on them, he’ll taste her sweet cunt as if to find him there as well, he’ll touch each piece of her body with hands and tongue. He’ll find release inside her but not in any way to get a babe on her. There will be no bastards here.

Jon’s had little reason to speak to women of such things, and less desire to. It had been a shock to him to learn women wanted coupling as much as men, something Ygritte had taught him, though only one thing of many. But he’d never done this with Ygritte, he’d kept to her cunt and never wanted for it, never thought to imagine otherwise. Men of the Watch are how he’d learned of this, men who kept their vows in the barest sense while burying their cocks within each other all the while, indeed taking no wives, lying with no women. He’s not able to speak of it directly with Jeyne. It had been hard enough resisting her advances, keeping himself first only to kisses and touches, then to his tongue in her cunt, the heat of her so appealing that each time had been a torment as much as it had been bliss.

“I want you inside me,” she’d begged. “Please, I need you inside me.”

This is not what she’d intended, he knows, but it’s all he’ll give himself, all he can give her, though some deep, secret part of him wants to lay with her fully, wants to give her a babe, wants to fuck her sweet cunt hard and fast, spending his seed within her and creating new life to replace the one so dear to him that’s gone now forever. It’s too tempting, it puts an ache in his heart that can’t be filled, so he rolls her to her stomach, he parts her thighs with his knees, wets his fingers with the slick heat of her cunt and moves them up to push inside her and curl, working her open, his cock growing harder with each whimper and cry of surprise that can’t be stifled by the pillow she pushes her face against. He allows her time to object, holds himself poised with his cock against her long enough that she could roll aside or move away. She only cants her hips up off the bed at an obscene angle, the dip of her spine enough to make his cock bead, spreads her knees to expose herself to him, and he’s lost to reason, lost to anything but the need to be inside her the way both of them want.

She calls out his brother’s name the first time he slowly pushes inside her, as she spasms tight around his cock and works her hips back despite his hands on her holding her still, fingers pushed into the yield of her soft, sweet flesh hard enough to bruise. Robb, she says, before she catches herself, before she bites her lip and buries her face again. It should make Jon soften, but it only makes him harder, only increases his need to drive into the mindless pleasure her body offers. He wants to share that pleasure, wants only shattering bliss for this girl who loved and lost his brother same as he, this girl who is already being whispered of, who already is called Kingslayer by Jon’s Black Brothers. He wants to protect her from pain, but he can’t, all he can do is give her pleasure, so he works his hand beneath her belly, rubs over her and works his fingers inside her empty and grasping cunt to twist and curl, keeping his thumb on her where she’s most sensitive to coax her to meet him as he feels his release building inside him. Had he not experienced so much with Ygritte, he’d never be able to hold off, to wait for Jeyne; she’s too tight around him, her muscles milk at him too expertly despite her inexperience in such things. It’s all he can do to keep his body in check until she’s pulsing around his fingers and tensing around his cock, her shout muffled in the pillow, her release coating his hand. She collapses, boneless, and he braces his hands at her hips again, levers himself against her and thrusts more forcefully than he should, harder than may be comfortable for her, but his release is upon him and he knows no way of stopping. When it hits him, he spends in great pulsing jerks, spilling within her the only way he’ll allow.

It’s all a mess, the evidence of his release when he pulls out of her mingling with her own on their bodies, on the linens and furs. He should strip the bed, clean it all up, but he feels as tired as if he’d spent the last year awake without a drop of sleep. The warm curl of her beside him is too appealing, it’s been too long since he’s lain with a woman and felt her soft comforts, the sweetness of teat and belly and hip pressed to him, her sweet-sour breath stirring his hair and tickling his ear. Everything will still need cleaning in the morning. Everything can wait.

“Thank you, Jon,” she whispers, and then she yawns with a curling tongue like a kitten, she closes her eyes and tucks her face to his neck. Maybe this is something he shouldn’t allow either – Jon knows it isn’t, this will come to nothing but more heartache - but he finds he can’t keep from this any more than he could keep from her, and he nuzzles into her hair that smells of pine and juniper berries and lets himself join her in sleep.


End file.
